


Some Days and Some Spicyhoney

by keelywolfe



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 12 Days of Papcest, Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Angst, Enemies to Lovers, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), papcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-27 23:02:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17171120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Writings for the '12 Days of Papcest!'I'm not calling it 12 days because I can't promise I'll manage something every day, but I will do what I can!





	1. Day 1: Relinquish

**Author's Note:**

> How can you want someone you can't even stand?

* * *

It might be the bravest thing Rus'd ever done, this one kiss. Clumsy and tentative, their teeth clacking almost painfully, and yet Edge didn't pull away. Didn't pull away and didn't respond, but standing still was still better than he'd expected. 

Not that Rus had expected any of this, not by a fucking longshot. 

Rus and Edge had never gotten along, not since the first moment they'd taken a step into another universe and met. Sanctimonious fucking bastard was what Rus had seen in him, who had the nerve to lecture him about laziness while he stood there with LV glaring from his soul. He was an obnoxious, overbearing twat and that was what made the incomprehensible urge to kiss him so much worse. 

Had to be some kind of primitive compulsion, had to be, that he could want someone that he couldn’t fucking well stand, and Rus couldn’t deal with that shit, so he ignored it. Pushed it aside, crammed it into the overflowing mental closet in the back of his thoughts and hidden it away. He’d done the same thing for plenty of other problems and it had been working just fine.

Until now, until here. Everyone else was still in the living room, sitting around the television with their attention on the movie. Rus had been going back out with popcorn at the same moment Edge came into the kitchen for drinks. 

They’d only been brushing past each other and the snark Rus was about to spit at him to quit taking up the whole doorway had sputtered and died when he abruptly saw how close they were. A simple turn of his head left their faces only inches away. So close, too close, right inside the kitchen door and the garish crimson of Edge’s eye lights were softened to ruby this close and…and…and…

Maybe it was brave to kiss Edge, an impulse and a compulsion tangled up as one that came bursting out from where Rus had locked it away. Tipping his mental scale from resistance to giving in and that left them here, standing alone in the narrow doorway, caught in an unexpected embrace. 

It went on for a beat, two, what could have been a tender kiss was instead nothing more than a clumsy moment of awkwardness made up of Rus’s desperation and Edge’s stillness. Strong hands on his shoulders pushed Rus away with startling gentleness. Even as their mouths parted, Rus caught the faint spice of Edge’s magic, tainting his tongue, and he almost chased it, almost, but for Edge pushing him away. 

"No,” Edge said. His voice was low, but he spoke clearly. 

Rus’s soul dropped with painful wrench.

"no?" he echoed hoarsely. Stupid, his thoughts screeched at him, so fucking stupid, it wasn’t any kind of courage that had led him, it was common idiocy, and now he’d left himself open to Edge’s scathing verbal assault, not only for today, oh, no, but for always and every time they met. 

With one kiss, he’d ripped a wound into his own weakness, and every time Rus had to look at Edge, he would see that contempt. Distantly, he could hear the movie playing, the muffled sound as the others laughed at whatever was playing on the screen. They would know too, all of them, Sans and Red and his brother. Edge wasn’t one to keep his feelings on anything a secret, not for anyone else’s sake. Rus already knew what he would see in their eye lights, an eclectic mix of scorn and pity whenever Edge chose to remind him of this moment, verbally slashing him open again.

Because he would, of course he would, and Rus would deserve every fucking word of it. 

If Edge hadn’t still had a hold on his shoulders, Rus would have shortcutted as far away as he could. Tore a hole through the void and thrust himself through it with every droplet of magic he possessed, if only so he didn’t have to see the contempt that was surely there on his scarred face. 

Only, Edge didn’t tear him open with sharp words and derision, he didn’t ask Rus what the fuck he thought he was doing, he didn’t dig in with sharpened fingertips, didn’t hurt, didn’t wound. He looked up at Rus with surprising steadiness. 

"No. Not while we are this," Edge repeated, low. He sounded...he didn't sound like himself; Rus was used to insults and...and anger, there was always so much _anger_ welling in Edge, overflowing and spilling out in cutting words. It was strange to hear him sounding quiet and tired and so terribly resigned.

It didn't make sense. "this?"

Rus could only blink as Edge reached up and trailed a gentle fingertip over his cheekbone. The leather of his gloves was worn to softness, velvety smooth against bone. "Not like this. Not a flashbang and over. I don't want an hour of hate sex and a lifetime of awkwardness, not with you."

"wha...i don't hate you," Rus blurted, not even sure if he meant it. 

Edge drew back and took a step away, leaving empty space between them. "That's precisely why I'm saying no. Not right now."

"i don't understand." His voice was small and a little lost, Rus blinking too fast, too hard. He didn’t understand, at all.

Edge started to turn away, hesitated, then turned back and Rus barely had a chance to suck in a sharp breath before a mouth was on his again. His kiss was no less tentative than Rus's but given with more care, far more tenderness than he could have guessed Edge possessed. It stirred faint butterflies of warmth in his soul and when he parted his teeth, the gentle touch of a tongue against his own was as much a tease as it was a promise. Then Edge drew away.

Blinking, Rus could only look at Edge, mute and confused, and wanting, yes, but that old want had changed, the untamed feeling that he’d hidden in the back of his thoughts had mutated in something he couldn’t name. Edge’s gaze was steady, crimson eye lights flicking briefly over Rus.

"Not yet," Edge whispered and he walked away, leaving Rus standing alone with popcorn scattered at his slippered feet. Swamped in his confusion, but alongside it was the faintest spark of hope. 

Not now, not here. 

Yet.

fin


	2. Day 2: Rule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I went with a slightly different interpretation of this one, or heck, maybe I didn’t, we’ll see! Anyway, I’ve written Coffee Shops into stories before but I’ve never actually written a Coffee Shop AU, so....let’s have an Art Student and the Barista AU.

* * *

Rus would be the first to admit he wasn’t paying attention. That was the first broken rule; in a coffee shop, you had to be ready to get your order when it was done, especially any of the busy shops on campus. But it was before the afternoon rush and they weren’t very busy. And he was trying to catch a particularly tricky Pokémon on his phone when the barista called his name. It took him long enough to get there for his name to be called again with a little impatience. 

Take it fucking easy, Rus thought to himself, not foolish enough to say it to the great distributor of caffeination. That was the second rule one shouldn’t break, never be rude to your barista.

It was only as he reached for his cup, Pokémon safely caught, that Rus looked up, absently saying, “sorry, sorry, thanks…oh.” he stopped, blinking. He all but lived part time at this coffee shop and he’d never seen this guy before. 

The skeleton standing in front of him was not the person who’d taken his order. Rus liked to think no game was attention-consuming enough that he’d miss this guy. Only a little shorter than him with bright crimson eye lights, his bold gaze uncaring of the crack the marred his left socket. He stood with ruler-straight posture, a sharp contrast to Rus’s everyday slump, and there wasn’t so much as a smear or a sprinkle of powdered sugar on his apron whereas Rus had at least four shades of paint smeared from his sweatshirt down to his jeans. Guy must be a neat freak, probably an asshole. Rus liked him immediately. 

He wanted to think that the fact that the new guy was smoking hot didn’t affect his assessment.

He _wanted_ to think that. 

Belatedly, Rus realized he’d been staring a little too long and he cleared his throat, trying not to give off a vibe of complete idiot. “i’d thank you, but you aren’t wearing a name tag.”

The way he elegantly raised a brow bone at Rus only enhanced that toe-curling attractiveness. “No, I’m not.”

Yep, definitely an asshole. Rus picked up his cup and took a sip, rolling the sweetness over his tongue. He set a hand on the counter and leaned in, a little, giving the new guy a little smirk. “then how can i know your name?”

Behind the new guy, the other barista, Emily, was rolling her eyes, and Rus shot her a glare. No interference from the peanut gallery, thank you. 

Not that it could have done any damage. This guy didn’t even twitch from where he was wiping the counter, only said coolly, “Normally, people ask.”

“do they?” Rus took another sip then turned away before he could break another rule; don’t ask someone out when they were on the clock. “huh. well, thanks, cap’n coffee, see you around!”

The bell above the door jangled as Rus walked out, his thoughts lingering a little longer on the man of mystery. Soon enough he was jogging to get to class on time. 

But he was sure as hell going to be back tomorrow.

* * *

Over the next couple of months, Rus got to know a few more things about his coffee captain. Not his name, nah, that would be too easy, and even though he could’ve cheated to find it out, what was the point of that? They’d get there eventually, and in the meantime, Rus was going to enjoy playing this game by the rules. 

With a little teasing gossip, he’d found out that his barista was newly back in town and a veteran, and that his discharge had something to do with how he’d gotten the scar over his eye socket. It made him worry for a moment about his silly nickname, but Emily had reassured him with a roll of her eyes that the captain was amused by it. Extensive personal testing had proved that the guy had the entire menu memorized and measured ingredients with razor precision. He knew that the guy knew _his_ name and still, the next time Rus picked up his cup after they’d met, he’d narrowed his sockets at the name written on it. 

“picasso,” Rus drawled, unimpressed. “that’s original. i’m an artist so you tag me with the one everyone knows.”

The captain didn’t even look up from the pitcher he was washing and only said, calmly, “How do you know I’m not calling you that because you look like one of his paintings?”

That startled a laugh out of him and Rus shook his head. “guess i should have expected that, you don’t have much trouble _expressoing_ yourself.”

“A pun like that is _grounds_ for getting banned.”

Sexy-hot was one thing, but able to snap back with a good pun? It was hard for Rus to resist saying fuck the rules and give into the urge to hop the counter. “seems like a _latte_ fuss about nothing.”

Another customer stepped up to the counter, and the barista shot back, “you’ll have to _grind_ your axe later.”

Laughing softly, Rus picked up his cup and made his way to class.

* * *

Somehow the past week felt like it had been going on for a month. One of those weeks where nothing was insanely wrong, but everything was piling on top of each other, weighing him down with problems that he should be dealing with. 

Sitting in the coffee shop was the exact opposite of dealing. Didn’t stop Rus from taking another sip of his cup, wishing he’d sprung for an extra shot of expresso for once. 

The shop was empty, near as it was to closing time and Rus was doodled on a napkin, drawing a human who was sitting with his chin propped on hand. How it was he could find the inspiration for a little sketch but not the projects he was working on was evidence of the universe’s quirky sense of humor. 

“Why is he crying?” Rus flinched a little, almost smearing his pen across the thin paper. He wasn’t expecting a voice so close to him and he looked up to see the Captain leaning in, studying his little drawing. 

“he’s not crying,” Rus started indignantly, his protest fading as he looked down again. 

Except he was, wasn’t he. There wasn’t a teardrop showing in his little sketch, but they were there for anyone who looked. It was in his posture, in his expression, the weight of the world on his shoulders and Rus knew how he felt, his little paper person trapped forever with his despair. 

A drop of wetness fell on the paper, diluting the ink and it spread in a salty little puddle, quickly joined by another. Hands gently pulled Rus in and he found himself leaning against a solid shoulder, his tears coming faster than the shirt he was pressed against could soak them in. All the stress from the week pouring out in one heaving, weeping rush.

His only saving grace was that his outburst ended quickly. A little embarrassed, Rus drew back and wiped at his face with a spare napkin. The Captain’s always pristine uniform was stained with wetness, but he didn’t seem to care. He took away the crumpled napkin and gently wiped away the lingering damp on Rus’s cheek bones. 

“Sorry about that,” Rus whispered hoarsely. How humiliating to break down not only in front of the guy he’d been not-so-secretly crushing on for months, but also someone who surely had gone through worse things than Rus could even dream about and came out okay. 

The Captain only shook his head. “It’s all right, Rus.” His thumb stroked gently over Rus’s cheek bone and this time, he didn’t seem to be wiping away tears. “You’re allowed to have a bad day.”

They’d been dancing around each other for months and the only time he’d ever called Rus by his name was that coffee order, the first time Rus had ever heard him speak. Rus came here every day and most of the time the Captain was here, happy to offer his Picasso a pun or a dry remark, and today he’d called Rus by his name again, breaking the unspoken rule of their little game. 

He kind of liked hearing it. 

Rus swallowed hard and whispered, “what’s your name?”

“Edge.” 

It worked, the name suited him, but Rus thought he was always going to secretly think of Edge as his captain. 

“Edge,” he repeated, softly. There was something shining in Edge’s eye lights that made him look hurriedly away, Edge was still at work even if no one was in the shop and Rus didn’t want to get him in trouble. Some rules should never be broken and trying to steal a first kiss on duty was one of them. “um, i…can i get another coffee?”

“Of course,” Edge murmured. “Everything I brew, I brew it for you.”

It startled a laugh out of him. Edge always seemed able catch him out and as Rus watched Edge make his drink, he thought maybe it was time to ask his captain out, see him outside the coffee shop for once. 

After all, if he waited until Edge was off the clock to ask, it wouldn’t be breaking the rules. 

-fin


	3. Day 3: Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy cats this was difficult to write! Warnings for a near-death experience but no one dies, never fear!
> 
> I'd say this was enemies to lovers but it's more like fuckbuddies to....something else. Still underground, Underswap is usually safer than Underfell, in most ways.

* * *

_come back to me_

_please_

_come back_

—-

Everything hurt.

Edge was swimming in darkness, struggling to free himself from clinging unconsciousness. Even through it he could feel, and what he felt was that everything hurt. 

More worrisome than the deep ache in his bones was the soul-deep pain. Memory was still out of reach and dimly he could hear movement. Someone was close, too close. Edge reached for the last dregs of his magic, he may be dying but he’d take his killer with him and—

“hey, calm down, it’s just me.”

It froze him on the razor edge of a blind attack. A known voice, a familiar one, if not a trusted one. He concentrated instead on opening his sockets, his vision swimming into focus to see Stretch looking down at him, his expression a sensible combination of wariness and concern.

His eye lights were easier to move than his limbs and though the light was dimmed, he could see he was in his alternate’s room, laying on what served as his bed. Slightly ironic, considering the only other times he’d been in this room had been with an entirely different purpose. Stretch was sitting on the floor next to the mattress and Edge narrowed his gaze, taking in the dark stains that marred his usual sweatshirt. It was oddly disturbing to see him tainted with marrow, even knowing it was his own. Hazy as he was, at the very least he knew that Stretch and Underswap weren’t supposed to be marked that way.

Neither of their brothers were in sight and that made his soul twitch reflexively. The shock of pain from it almost made him heave. Memory was slowly returning, of too many assailants, of his soul close to shattering, of his brother grabbing him at the last second as he fell into darkness. 

He swallowed it back and rasped out, “Where’s Red?” 

“he’s safe.” Stretch told him, which was no kind of an answer. “he brought you here. you were…you are in a bad way, edgelord, for a while there we weren’t sure if…anyway, i’ve been working on you since you got here.”

“Why would he bring me here?” Edge managed a scowl. Not that he could argue about the safety of Underswap, but he would have expected his brother to stay and work on healing him, particularly if he’d been as bad off as Stretch was implying.

Stretch only shrugged in answer, hardly more privy than he to the strange workings of Red’s mind. “guess he thought since we fuck around from time to time i could help. seems to be helping some. i should probably try a little more now that you’re awake.”

Edge sank back into the blankets, shaking his head dismissively over that foolishness. Monster souls were made of love and that was the only thing that would heal one. He’d seen more than one Monster dust from an otherwise survivable wound because there was no one who cared for them enough to heal their damaged soul.

His brother must have hoped that whatever passed for Rus’s attraction to him might hold until Red returned. Swapverse Monsters did seem like the type to form at least a tenuous attachment to their bedpartners. 

It couldn’t make things worse by letting him try.

“Get on with it,” Edge grunted when Stretch didn’t move. He seemed oddly nervous, shifting closer hesitantly. Edge clenched his hands into fists as Stretch settled his own on his ribcage with unexpected delicacy. 

“might even be easier with you awake.” His laugh was weak, Edge noted dismissively. Stretch already looked exhausted; whatever meagre healing he’d provided had obviously taken its toll. Not that he ever expected Stretch to be capable of much, his lazy-ass alternate was of little use past providing bad jokes and stress relief as far as Edge was concerned. 

That was all and if occasionally he caught glimpses of something else beneath the sarcasm and sleepiness, Edge dismissed it as unimportant. He got what he needed out of their arrangement, there was no need to pursue anything else.

He inhaled sharply as Stretch carefully drew out his soul, cradling it in his palms. He’d never had his soul summoned so gently, not in any memory he possessed. 

Red must have worked on it quite a bit before he’d left; Edge vaguely remembered it being fractured so badly it had been on the verge of shattering. Most of the smaller fractures were now gone completely with hardly a faded scar and those would disappear in time. The worst was a deep crevice in the center and even that was smaller than Edge’s vague memory of it. 

Stretch exhaled slowly. “here goes.”

Warmth filled his soul, a trickle at first and then stronger, cradling it in cushion of delicate heat. Stretch’s magic was filling the empty cracks of his soul, overflowing in them, brilliant and far stronger than expected. There was nothing weak in it, nothing as pale as mere affection. _Love_ , gentle waves of it, so deep he hardly recognized it, nothing like the rough familial touch of his brother.

Red hadn’t healed him earlier, Edge realized distantly. It had been Stretch, all Stretch, the memory of it more like a dream but that feeling of love lingered, this very same touch bringing him back from the brink. 

A moment of eternity later, it faded to nothing more than the sensation of warmth from Stretch’s hands. Edge opened his sockets, hardly remembered closing them, and before his soul sank back into his ribcage, he saw the smaller fractures were gone and the large crack was sealed. There was still an ugly scar but that would heal, either in time or another healing session.

Stretch started to pull away with a nervous laugh, “there, uh, didn’t do too bad. i’ll just—"

He flinched as Edge caught his wrists, holding him still. He exhaled shakily, his head dropping; he knew then, that the secret he’d hoped to keep had been thrown out into the open. And more than that, Edge looked at Stretch searchingly and a dozen, a hundred little idiosyncrasies fell into place and Stretch seemed terribly exposed, cringing into himself.

“don’t,” Stretch said brokenly. “don’t, not right now, i can’t…i can’t hear you mocking me right now. please.”

“I don’t love you.” There was no way to say it gently, the words stark between them. 

Edge shouldn’t have said it yet, he still needed healing, but he was desperate to deny it, the way he couldn’t Stretch’s feelings for him. That sensation of love was clinging stickily, refusing to fade the same way the healing magic had.

“you think i don’t know that?” Stretch let out a low sob. “let me go, please!”

He was still holding Stretch’s wrists, he realized distantly. 

“I don’t,” Edge insisted. He couldn’t, love was a weakness, he couldn’t love, he couldn’t trust. No one but his own brother, no one else.

“then let me go,” Stretch cried. Tears were starting to track down his cheek bones as he started to struggle in earnest, but even injured, Edge was stronger than him. Was he? It was weakness had driven him into Stretch’s bed to begin with, his own inability to resist the tantalizing offer. Stress relief, he’d told himself, even as he drowned in the sweet pleasure Stretch’s body offered him. 

“I don’t want to,” Edge said faintly. 

“what?” Stretch went still, tearful but startled.

“I don’t want to let you go.” He’d shortcut away the moment Edge did, and he didn’t…he didn’t want that.

“i…okay,” Stretch said blankly.

Instead, Edge gentled his grip, enough for Stretch to pull away if he wanted to. He didn’t, only sat there and let Edge hold on to him. 

Trustingly, Edge realized dimly. Stretch had always trusted him not to hurt him. Had allowed a Monster with LV into his bed and into his heart. There was no questioning that, Edge had felt it, love poured undeniably into his own soul. 

It was foolishness. His brother would eviscerate him for this. 

Carefully, Edge pulled him closer, into the bed with him. Stretch was fully dressed, even down to his sneakers and Edge barely gave him a chance to kick them off as he slid his hands under Stretch’s sweatshirt, seeking the warmth of bare bone. His gloves were gone, they’d been in tatters when his brother had come for him. Most of his clothing had been the same and beneath the blankets he pressed his bare bones against Stretch’s mostly clothes ones.

“I don’t love you,” he said again, a thread of sound. He couldn’t, he _couldn’t_. Loved things get lost, get hurt, get killed, he’d learned that lesson time and again.

“i know,” Stretch said, but this time he was soothing, reassuring. Stretch wound his arms around Edge, tugging him in close to rest his head over his ribcage. He could hear the soft, steady pulse of Stretch’s soul, almost a subsonic thrum.

For one brief, foolish impulse, Edge thought of summoning Stretch’s soul, of holding it in his hands and allowing whatever unspeakable emotions that were within him to seep into it.

He dismissed the idea immediately.

Instead, he closed his sockets, lulled by the soft throb of the soul beneath his cheek bone, trying not to think about the emotion he knew was in it. 

Love past the bonds of family was a fairytale reserved for Underswap. But he could trust, a little, that Stretch would watch over him while he slept. 

 

-fin


	4. Day 4: Frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With all the differences between Underfell and Underswap, there’s bound to be misunderstandings. Edge and Stretch stumble over one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had the idea to write about the meaning of wearing a collar in Underfell and I wanted to do a different take on it. This story is SFW and the implications of a collar are not meant to be specifically sexual, for anyone who might be on the fence about reading. Only Spicyhoney here.
> 
>  
> 
> That said, I don’t mean to kinkshame anyone else! Just wanted to explore this theme. ^_^

* * *

“do you lay out everything on your dresser with a ruler, edgelord?”

Edge didn’t look out from where he was searching through his closet. He did tend to keep his possessions organized, though not to the extent Stretch seemed to be implying. Proven by the fact that he was having a difficult time locating the puzzle book he’d offered to loan Blue. To be fair, he hadn’t used this one in years, it was likely beneath both their skills in devising traps. Still, even an amateur instructional could offer pointers and he might reread it himself when Blue was finished. 

He grimaced when he heard a soft clatter behind him, a fair indication that Stretch was getting bored waiting for him.

Not that he’d offered for Stretch to follow him to his room. He might well have stayed down with the others to watch the movie on what was a rare movie night in Underfell. No, trailing after him was his own idea; he’d probably been thinking of trying to steal a few kisses, perhaps a little more. 

Edge was still deciding if he was going to let him.

The elusive puzzle book appeared at the very bottom of the box he was searching through and Edge snatched it up, backing out of the closet with no little relief. “Just because not all of us organize our living space with the little known technique of leaving everything where it falls doesn’t mean—“

He trailed off as he caught sight of Stretch, appalled. He was grinning cheekily, delighted in what he surely saw as a grand joke; that was normal enough. The collar around his neck was not. It was one of Red’s and it had been sitting on the dresser because the protection spells woven into it were wearing thin and needed to be renewed.

Stretch gave him a wink. “what do you think, edgelord? ready to lead me around underfell on a leash…hey!”

He yelped as Edge stormed over to him, roughly unbuckling the collar and snatching it away with a snarl, “Must you disrespect everything you touch!”

Stretch glared at him, rubbing his cervical vertebrae. “for fuck’s sake, it was a joke!”

“You have no idea of the meaning behind it!” Edge snapped. The leather in his hands was worn and familiar, his own magic layered into it alongside Red’s, but he could feel the slight taint of Stretch’s, imbued by being worn. “It’s meant to be worn by someone worth protecting!”

Stretch’s angry expression closed off, his eye lights going cold as chips of ice. ”got it, crystal clear.”

He turned away, already digging out his cigarettes as he walked out the door.

Edge exhaled heavily, scrubbing an agitated hand over his skull. Perhaps he’d been a bit harsher than he’d intended, but he wasn’t about to apologize. Underfell was not what any of the Taleverse Monsters would consider ideal but it was his home and Edge was sick of their customs being mocked. Now he’d have to wait for the miasma of Stretch’s magic to fade before he could reimbue the collar with his own and that aggravation alone should count for something.

He picked up the puzzle book and made his way back downstairs, bracing himself for the wall of cold Stretch was likely going to throw up between them.

To his surprise, he wasn’t there, the space on the sofa next to Blue was empty. Probably outside smoking then, and as uncomfortable as the thought was of him standing outside alone in Underfell, Edge didn’t go after him. A cigarette often went a long way in calming him and at the moment, Edge’s presence was probably far from soothing.

Their relationship was so new it was still fragile, slowly working its way out from a brief time of simply fucking into…whatever this was. The tentative, nervous beginnings of something more, made all the more difficult to reach with the way both of them circled the other, wary and snarling at any outstretched hand of emotion but so often giving in anyway. It was exhausting. 

It was worth it.

Edge took the seat next to Blue, who exclaimed in delight when handed the book. Hopefully, Stretch would get over his snit soon and the evening could be something to be enjoyed rather than endured, particularly since Red was going back with the Tale brothers for whatever scheme they had coaxed him into. He would have the house to himself and he was hoping to have Stretch in it with him. In a variety of ways. 

“I’ve seen this sort of trap before in another book,” Blue whispered, pitching his voice below the movie.

“sacofsky’s technique? Yes, it was quite popular through the —“ Edge allowed himself to be drawn into conversation; discussing traps with Blue was an excellent distraction. Papyrus interjected the odd excited remark along with Sans and Red complaining that they couldn’t hear the movie. Far too good of a distraction as nearly an hour passed before Edge realized Stretch hadn't come back inside.

A cold thread of worry snaked its way up his spine. Generally, Snowdin was safe enough from XP hunters or Monsters crazed by their LV, but all the residents had some amount and Stretch was a tempting target.

“I’m going to see if your brother is done smoking,” Edge said evenly. No point in worrying the others, yet.

He needn’t have bothered, Blue didn’t even glance away from the book. “Pappy? He went home, said he was tired.” Blue finally glanced up to give him a searching look. “Didn’t he tell you goodbye?”

“Apparently not,” Edge said irritably. 

Which meant Stretch was either still angry or upset. He could be frustratingly opaque when he chose and all too often, he would take the route of avoidance rather than discussion, leaving Edge to force the issue. 

If he chose to stay here, it wouldn’t be brought up again, he knew. The next time he saw Stretch, he would get the same lazy, flirtatious smile as always and going forward, Stretch would likely never mention collars again, either teasingly or with genuine questions. He’d bury their little spat away and ignore it with more diligence than he put towards his actual duties.

That was not at all what Edge wanted. He wanted Stretch to understand…which he wasn’t about to if all Edge gave him was his own temper.

Edge sighed, ignoring the others questioning looks as he went back upstairs. If he was going to Underswap, he needed a few things first.

* * *

Stepping out into a universe that wasn’t his own always made Edge cautious. Much as he understood that Underswap and Undertale seemed far safer than Underfell, it was not a scenario that Edge chose to trust. Things could change very quickly and unexpectedly, even here.

His caution was unproven today. There was nothing but quiet darkness and the glow from windows around him, snow falling in a light scattering of flakes. Edge walked around the side of the house, wondering briefly if Stretch had chosen to drown his sorrow at Muffet’s, but no. He was sitting on their porch stairs, the cherry-red tip of his cigarette glaring through the dark.

The amount of butts scattered at his feet made Edge wince. Blue was going to have a fit. 

Stretch’s voice seemed overly loud in the hush of the snowfall. “if you’re here to apologize to me, you can save it.”

“I’m not,” Edge said evenly. “If anything, you owe me an apology.”

If he wasn’t angry before he certainly was now. His eye lights flared, the normal white shading into orange. “if you came all this way to demand a fucking apology—“

“I didn’t actually,” Edge broke in before his tirade could gather steam. “I wanted to explain.”

The light from his cigarette snuffed out and Edge winced at the flare of a lighter as Stretch lit another. He blew out a cloud of smoke before he spoke again, softer. “you don’t need to explain, i get it, all right? for someone important, yeah? someone worth protecting.”

Edge exhaled slowly, clarity sharpening. Not angry, or not only angry; Stretch had come home to lick wounds that Edge hadn’t even known he’d inflicted. He hadn’t meant it that way but he should have guessed how Stretch would take it. His thoughtless irritation had cut deeper than he’d intended and now he could see that hurt in the hunch of Stretch’s shoulders, in the way his eye lights flicked downward to focus on the snow.

Carefully, Edge moved to sit next to him on the steps. It was reassuring that Stretch didn’t draw away, allowed him to settle with their femurs pressed lightly against each other.

“Someone important, yes,” Edge agreed quietly. “That’s true. But no, you don’t get it.”

From his inventory he withdrew the collar Stretch had handled earlier. The dark leather was worn but well cared for, cleaned and oiled when necessary. Within it resonated his own magic, years of protection and claiming layered into it, broken only by the faint wrongness Stretch had left behind.

“This is Red’s,” Edge began slowly, fingering the pointed studs lining the collar. “One of them. It’s imbued with my magic and claim, and it marks him as being under my protection.” Edge allowed a sardonic smile to curve his mouth. “Something Red needs far less than most would suspect. But as Captain of the Guard in Snowdin, I have certain allowances that Red would otherwise not be able to utilize without the collar.” Edge shook his head. “What you must understand is that he is the one who chooses to wear it. No one can force their collar on someone. Whatever you other ‘verses have gotten into your heads about it meaning ownership, I do not know, but having met my brother, can you imagine him allowing anyone to own him? Even me?”

“i guess not,” Stretch said, quietly. He didn’t draw away when Edge settled a hand on his knee.

“To imply that it means I would walk him around on a leash like a pet is greatly insulting to both of us.” Edge tightened his grip at the expected flinch, not allowing Stretch to pull away.

“fuck, i’m sorry.” The orange glare faded from Stretch’s eye lights and now he only seemed stricken. “i didn’t mean—“

“I know. I told you, I don’t want an apology,” Edge broke in gently. “I want you to understand.”

He put the collar back in his inventory, hesitating over another item before making his choice and withdrawing it. The long box was heavy in his hands, both the weight and the implications.

He handed it to Stretch, refusing to dither with it like a fool. “This is yours. I don’t know that I ever really intended to give it to you, I understand that things work differently in your universe but—“

Edge trailed away with shrug and watched as Stretch curiously opened the box. 

Red’s collar had practically been a force of nature, wide and thick, intimidatingly aggressive. The one nestled inside the box was slimmer, no metal studs but rather delicately tooled leather in his colors, black with a thin rim of red. The inside was lined with soft material that wouldn’t irritate Stretch’s more delicate cervical vertebrae. The only adornment was a simple metal buckle, shining silver, with no rings to clip any sort of leash, or whatever ridiculousness the other verses expected.

Carefully, Stretch picked it up from the box and with his sharp inhale, Edge knew he was feeling the protection woven into it. Which he certainly should, it was directed at him, all the safeguards that Edge had saturated it with. Protection, claiming, security, warnings. All of it interlaced with Stretch in mind.

His eye lights were wide, unreadable, and Edge braced himself for Stretch to decline it, gently perhaps, with understanding and caring or even angrily, refusing what he saw as a claim of ownership.

“can you put it on me?”

Only in the deepest depths of his viciously suppressed fantasies had Edge ever allowed himself to imagine hearing those soft words.

He hesitated, hardly able to believe it, “Out here? Someone might see.”

“so?” Stretch sounded genuinely perplexed. “why wouldn’t i want them to know you’re protecting me?”

There was a tremor in his hands as he took the collar, fastening it carefully around Stretch’s neck as he held obediently still. The leather was cool as Edge smoothed his fingers over it, not yet warmed by Stretch’s body heat. The color against the paleness of his bones drew the eye, as intended, the redness matching better to the deep orange of Stretch’s magic than he’d dared hope.

His brother’s collar was a warning and a challenge in one. Stretch’s was focused more on protecting, but the sudden enticement of seeing it on him sent hot magic flooding Edge’s mouth, eager to form a tongue. He hadn’t misled Stretch, it was not about ownership, but to see Stretch willingly wearing his collar, something he never thought to witness, was unexpectedly arousing.

From the flush that rose in Stretch’s cheek bones, Edge wasn’t hiding his desire as much as he would have liked. Not that Stretch seemed to mind. His smile as he stroked a finger over it was shy, almost coy.

“i wouldn’t wear it everywhere but maybe when i come to underfell? if you wouldn’t mind?”

Mind? That was a deliberate tease. Edge moved to straddle Stretch’s lap, already imagining him in Underfell, the Monsters of Snowdin seeing that Stretch had chosen to wear his collar. It was more of a declaration than words could ever be.

Stretch’s startled laughter was an enticement of its own. His hands settled lightly on Edge’s hips as he nuzzled his way down, breathing in the smell of leather and a new sweetness. Already Stretch’s magic was being drawn into it and if he wore it enough, it would saturate the collar, mixing with his own.

The idea held more appeal than Edge wanted to admit.

“you didn’t want the neighbors to see you putting a collar on me, but this is all right?” Stretch teased. The underlying hoarseness in his voice was delectable and Edge shifted back up to taste it, capturing his mouth in a kiss.

“So take me inside,” Edge murmured and with another soft laugh, he did. 

The collar was even more attractive when it was the only thing Stretch was wearing, Edge discovered, another conclusion he hadn’t even considered. 

Later that night, lying together in the ruins of Stretch’s bed, Edge sat awake, watching his lover sleep. With precise care, he hooked a finger around the collar, careful not to wake him. Much as Stretch liked to imply he was an idiot, Edge knew better, but knowing what he did about misunderstandings regarding collars, it was no wonder that Stretch had missed the obvious truth of it.

That was fine, they had time work through it. Edge planned to make certain of it.

He did lean in, though, whispering softly, unheard, “I’m yours.”

Stretch didn’t so much as murmur in his sleep but it was satisfying to say. Drowsiness was pulling him in and Edge allowed it to draw him down, nestling against Stretch’s side with a sigh. 

Belonging was not owning, but that was a lesson for another time. 

-fin


	5. Day 5: Cooperate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sledding. Pure fluff. Pre-relationship. Sweet confused boys. All that good stuff.

* * *

The kid wasn’t stupid, Stretch always knew that. If he’d ever needed proof though, it was in today’s plan; Frisk had figured out that Monsters who could teleport were excellent companions for sledding, since it removed the whole walking back up the hill part from the equation. The appropriate amount of pleading later and all the neighborhood kids had joined forces with the local skeleton contingency for a day of sledding.

Stretch had taken the first turn, watching laughing children as they zipped down the hill and then snagging them back up it with a quick shortcut. Exactly once he’d been persuaded to take the sled down, sitting at the back of a long toboggan in the longest fucking minute of his life, and once was enough. He was fine shortcutting both ways, thanks, he’d save risking his life for the times he went out drinking with Red.

About a half hour was all his magical batteries were good for and now he was sitting at a snowy table, giving ‘em a chance to recharge. Sans was currently playing his round of kid delivery and Red was sitting nearby, watching with droll amusement. Whatever Tori had bribed them with to get them to come along must’ve been pretty good and Stretch was only a little miffed that he hadn’t held out for a little blackmail treat of his own. 

It was good to know what people had on you, for sure. 

A steaming cup was set at his elbow, taken from the top of a thermos. He took it with a mumbled thanks. Edge only nodded, setting the canister on the table. 

“coffee?” Stretch said after the first surprising sip. It was sweetened, at least, and with enough cream that he’d originally mistaken it for cocoa. 

“The better to keep it for yourself without any of the children begging for a sip,” Edge said dryly. “With that crowd, you’d be lucky to still have a cup left at the end.”

“good point.” Stretch took another long sip. It was pretty damn good, to be honest. “thought you took your coffee black.”

“I do. You, however, do not,” Edge grumbled, adding after a pause, “And neither does Sans or Red, of course. I decided three outranked one.”

Stretch kinda thought the one making the coffee outranked everyone, but he wasn’t about to argue. That was a quick route to getting cut off and he was already sure he’d be begging for another cup soon enough. 

It really was a nice day, cold and snowy, but the sun was out and that right there was enough to make it worth being outside. Honestly, it was shame Blue had already made plans for the day, he would’ve loved this. 

Not that Stretch minded too much sitting here with Edge, not lately. He and Edge could almost be called friends on a good day. Eh, it was hard to dislike anyone who cared so much about his bro, and it did Stretch some good to see that Blue had a cooking pal. 

Sure, the guy had a few sticks crammed in his pelvis, but he’d settled into life on the surface okay. From what they’d learned about Underfell, it wasn’t like you could blame the guy for having a few cracks in his psyche, and fuck it, like Stretch was a great judge of other people’s mental health? Nope, let bygones be bygones, bullshit be bullshit, and all of them could take a step closer to happily ever after. 

They sat together in companionable silence, Stretch sipping his coffee and he only stood when he could see Sans was starting to lag, stretching with a bone-popping groan. Red hadn’t taken a turn yet but that was okay, Stretch was starting to feel the cold and a little shortcutting action would warm him up. 

Before he could so much as walk towards the others, a shout rose through the air. 

“Look out!”

Stretch barely had time to see the sled careening off the track towards him when he was knocked off his feet and into a snow drift. He spluttered as he sat up, grimacing as he was forced to dig snow out of his sockets. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it felt _weird_ and the sensation of a finger digging around in his skull didn’t much improve it.

Once his vision stopped fizzling, Stretch blinked to see Edge was still sitting on his legs, working on getting the snow out of his own crevasses. Both of them looked like some kind of horror movie about skeletal snowmen and Stretch threw back his head and laughed, falling back into the drift. 

“wow, thanks, you saved my life,” Stretch chuckled, grimacing as he scooped a handful of snow out of his collar. “some cultures say that means you’re responsible for me now.”

“I…” To his surprise, Edge only stared at him, unmoving. That didn’t give Stretch much choice about going anywhere, not with Edge still sitting on top of him. His confusion only worsened when Edge reached up to touch his cheek bone, tracing the line of it. Wiping away snow, maybe? But his face didn’t feel particularly cold, what…?

“edge?” Stretch asked, confused. “are you all right? did you get hurt on the way down, what—”

The way Edge visibly shook himself didn’t clear things up any. He stood up, dusting snow off his clothes. “I don’t believe I’m ready for everything involved with being responsible for you.”

Welp, whatever 404 error Edge had been going through, looked like the reboot worked. Stretch gave him a cheeky grin and held up a hand. His grin only widened as Edge automatically took it and pulled him to his feet. He gave their joined hands a pointed look and Edge returned it with a scowl.

“too late,” Stretch told him smugly. “i’m your problem now.”

“That’s very much what I’m afraid of.” Too softly, but before Stretch could puzzle through that, the kids were shouting for him to come help.

“duty calls,” Stretch sighed. He gave a mocking little bow, “see you, my protector!”

With a last easy grin, he turned away, completely missing the brief flash of yearning that crossed Edge’s face. His entire attention was on the shouting children and the snowy, sunny day, and he started off towards it, leaving Edge behind. 

Two steps in, he hesitated, turning back. “you coming?”

Edge frowned at him. “I can’t teleport.”

“no…but i bet you could haul some of them up the hill on that toboggan,” Stretch’s grin widened. “ten bucks says you can’t pull more than three kids.”

A glint flashed in Edge’s eye lights. “You’re on.”

Together, they slogged through the snow towards the others and Stretch was already looking forward to losing a little money. 

It really was a beautiful day. 

-fin


	6. Day 6: Anticipate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Low HP Monsters needed their sleep. Edge knew that much. What he didn't understand was how Stretch could catch his attention by not doing a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have such a thing for the beginning of relationships. I can imagine about a hundred different ways for Edge and Stretch to get together and I’d happily read a hundred more. ^_^

* * *

There was something about Stretch that simply irritated Edge, some oblique, enigmatic thing. It was indescribable, prickling over his magic and crackling at the borders of his temper, and if there was one skill he’d honed from this, one thing to appreciate, was that over the months he’d known the Swap brothers, Edge had gained a fine grip on his control. Whether or not Stretch had learned the same lesson, Edge could not say, but he did know one thing; their moments of verbal sparring no longer took gouges out of his restraint.

Nowadays, he no longer stepped into their house anticipating a verbal attack and Edge managed to keep most of his opinions on Stretch’s lifestyle choices to himself. 

He couldn’t even fault him for napping, not any longer. Not too long after they’d met, Blue had taken him aside and delicately explained to him that Monsters with low HP needed extra rest and would he mind terribly letting up on the accusations of laziness?

The information had been…enlightening. It explained a great deal about his own brother, and Edge found himself hesitating now whenever he found his brother asleep in strange places, his normal frustrated anger sputtering out as he thought of Red’s straggling HP. 

Not that Edge stopped berating him for sleeping on the job; if he needed a nap, he could take one in the safety of their home rather than out in the open in a vulgar invitation for free XP.

Stretch was another matter and denied his accusations of laziness, Edge was dismayed to find when given enough time, Stretch was capable of perfectly interesting conversation and the occasional brilliant observation. It was probably a sign Edge was spending far too much time visiting the Swap brothers that he knew that. Worse, he’d almost laughed at one of Stretch’s ridiculous puns this morning.

A side effect he’d have to endure if he wished to continue his cooking lessons with Blue. 

By afternoon, the kitchen was clean and Blue was off to see Alphys. Edge was getting ready to return home for patrol when he walked past the open door of Stretch’s room. He’d seen it in passing before and marveled in disgust at how anyone could live in such filth. His interest in seeing it again was a solid negative and yet, a soft sound from within made him hesitate. 

Warily, Edge pushed open the door, taking a closer look. 

There was enough light coming in through the window to give him a good view of the bed, or rather, the bare mattress on the floor that served as Stretch’s bed. He was putting it to good use, long limbs sprawled out to the very limits of the mattress as he slept. The blankets were still tangled down by his feet, leaving him exposed for Edge’s eye lights to take him in. 

Edge didn’t think he’d ever seen Stretch without his ever-present sweatshirt. He was surprisingly slim without those concealing folds, his bones soft ivory and smooth. 

The tank top he was wearing was riding up and he could the barely see the rise of his iliac crest over the top of his shorts.

Edge reached out unthinkingly, intending to tug it down and preserve what little modesty Rus possessed. He pinched the fabric of his shirt between his fingers and lightly tugged...only to have Stretch sigh, squirming briefly before settling back. His shorts slipped down another inch, exposing clean, white bone and suddenly Edge found his mouth filled with magic, a rudimentary tongue starting to form. 

Impatiently, he swallowed it away, ignoring the fact that his subconscious seemed to believe that pretty bone was ripe for a taste. Would it be sweet, perhaps, as overwhelmingly cloying as the honey Stretch was always sipping at, or saltier, mineral thin?

Stretch’s lazy sprawl was inviting, imploring for a firmer touch, perhaps to wake him and see Stretch look up with sleep-hazed eye lights, to find out if he would smile invitingly or...not. 

Unworthy thoughts; this was Stretch, for pity’s sake, lazy, loud, annoying…the two of them always seemed balanced on the verge of an argument…and yet. Edge drew the hem of his shirt down, covering him, and turned to go. He hesitated, stilling, then turned back, silently picking up one of the blankets, shaking out the wrinkles before settling it lightly over Stretch. 

The quiet little sound Stretch made was one of pleasure, faint and contented, and how would he sound with something better than a simple blanket...Edge shook that thought away, shoving it back with the rest and settled for tucking the blanket around him. 

At the door, he paused, glancing back reluctantly. Sleeping peacefully, relaxed and unwary, there was a certain tension that was missing, unexpected as it was to Edge. 

There was something deeper there than the careless purveyor of bad puns and cigarette smoke. Edge didn’t have time to investigate it today, he was going to be late for patrol if he didn’t leave right now, mysterious depths from his alternate self would have to wait. 

But he’d be back in Underswap later this week and some secret, hidden part of him was anticipating finding out more. 

-finis-


	7. Day 7: Crush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A while back, I think it was cheapbourbon I was chatting with and we were talking about how Edge’s first time in Underswap might be a little more like Jack Skellington when he first stepped into Christmastown, all that shock and awe. And, well, this would be his first time seeing Swap!Pap, too...it sounds too cute to resist and it fit the prompt, so here we are! ^_^

* * *

Edge hadn’t known what to expect when he’d stepped through that portal. At the time, he hadn’t cared; anything had to be better than Underfell, even Hell itself, and he was willing to risk it on the chance of finding a safe place to take his brother. 

This had not been what he imagined.

It was Snowdin, but Snowdin as it had never been. White, pure fluffiness covered the ground, lined the eves and roofs of the buildings without the faintest taint of dust. The windows were unbarred, cheerful light pouring out of each one. 

And the decorations! Everywhere were glittering, flickering colored lights, ribbons and garlands. Close by in the middle of the town square was not a graffitied statue of Asgore but instead a large tree, bedecked with more lights and colorful globes, wrapped gifts piled beneath its evergreen branches.

A few wary steps let him see a Libraby, and again, instead of dark, empty windows filled with jagged shards glass, there was cheery invitation pouring out and shelves line with books. Across the street was a shop, ‘Muffet’s’ emblazoned across the marquee and while the name made him flinch, Edge thought he might be tempted to risk it from the wonderful smells wafting towards him. More shops were further down, Monsters making their way in an out their welcoming doors, none of them hurrying or casting fearful looks about. None of them had dust crusted into their clothes.

Edge stood in a daze. The urge to dart around town, examining each store, each new strangeness, was conflicting with the choice of what to see first. What _was_ this place?

“you look a little lost.”

It was automatic to summon an attack, but Edge resisted it, spinning in the direction of that voice, braced for anything—

He was not braced for that.

It was, impossibly, a skeleton Monster, the first he’d ever seen outside of himself and his own brother. But instead of cracked bones and glaring red eye lights, this skeleton was looking at him with lazy curiosity, his eye lights pale and soft. There wasn’t a hint of damage to his skull and between his teeth was clenched the stick of what Edge belatedly recognized as a lollypop. He was dressed in a bright orange hoodie and soft, loose pants, a little taller than Edge, and all the bones that Edge could see were smooth and unblemished, with a silky ivory gloss.

Whatever the other skeleton was expecting to see, he didn’t so much as flinch at meeting Edge’s scarred visage. Instead, he took the sucker out of his mouth, leaning in for a closer look, curiously. 

“you can talk right?” he asked, a little more cautiously, “you okay?”

“You’re beautiful.”

It probably wasn’t the socially acceptable first greeting for this world, certainly it wasn’t for Underfell, but Edge could have no more kept those words back than he could have held back an avalanche with his bare hands. It was a fact; snow was white, fire was hot, and this skeleton was beautiful.

The bright orange magic flooding his cheek bones only added to his appeal and Edge was charmed beyond words. What _was_ this place with its cheery, light-filled windows and its lovely inhabitants?

From the way he scrubbed a hand over his skull, the other skeleton was embarrassed, but he didn’t seem displeased.

“okay, that’s a hell of an intro, um.” He popped the lollypop back into his mouth, smiling a little around it. “my bro hates it when i bring home strays, but i think we better make an exception.” He cast a wink Edge’s way and it filled him with gentle warmth. “guess we can say you followed me home. what do you say, sweetheart?”

Normally, he’d bristle at any sort of pet name, even one said with such gentle teasing. But this skeleton, oh, his voice was as lovely as the rest of him, deep and soft, and Edge wanted to hear any endearment he wished to send in his direction.

He managed a nod and the other skeleton grinned.

“all right, then!” Without a hint of fear, he took Edge’s hand, drawing him along, and he couldn’t stop looking around, taking in the town, the other Monsters, his eye lights frequently straying back to his new companion.

He hadn’t been expecting anything like this when he stepped through the portal, but as far as Edge could tell, he’d gotten his wish.

A new home.

-finis-


	8. Day 8: Reckless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rus is only an antique dealer, but he got more than he bargained for out of one of his trinkets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I would call this a demon/mortal AU? I dunno, this is an odd one. ^_^

* * *

Rus lay sprawled out in his bed in the small apartment above his antique shop, his gasping breaths slowly easing. He watched as his lover rolled to his feet, sweat still drying on his bones. His lover stretched, wings unfurling and extending out to their limit.

With a sigh, he turned back to Rus and the crack in his socket didn’t detract from his appeal. He was raw beauty, a temptation to sin.

_(Once it had taken smears of marrow to summon him. Now Rus hardly needed a drop)_

Lazily, Rus scavenged his cigarettes from the side table, fishing one from the crumpled package. He barely had it lit, taking one long drag, before it was plucked away, crushing out into the ashtray. 

More amused than annoyed, Rus only shook his head. “you smell like sulfur every time you show up and you’re worried about a little smoke?”

“The sulfur fades,” Edge said pointedly. 

_(the first summoning had been an accident. Rus thought the knife was just another useless piece of junk in a box of random crap from an estate sale. The jewel-encrusted hilt was only garish rhinestones. It hadn’t seemed sharp, but it nicked bone deep enough to draw marrow, a blood-red smear that opened the reliquary and let Edge free. For a time)_

He watched as Edge picked up his shirt from where it was lying carefully folded over the back of a chair. “don’t go.” 

Edge only shrugged into the shirt, buttoning it with brisk efficiency. It was fascinating the way his wings seemed to simply pass through his clothes as if they were incorporeal. They weren’t, Rus knew that well. They resembled those of a bat, taut skin stretched between long bones. The first time Rus touched them, he’d expected them to be leathery, but instead they were velvety-soft, deeply warm to the touch. 

“I can’t stay much longer,” Edge said, briskly. His eye lights were crimson red, marking him as a creature of the underground, and they met Rus’s dispassionately. “The sun coming up. Demons can’t stay in Aboveground when the sun rises, as you well know.” A faint, cold smirk curved his mouth. “I’d need a soul to stay and you don’t have a spare. Unless you’ve rethought your opinions on murder?”

Rus winced; demons had slightly differing opinions on morality than the average person. “i haven’t.”

Edge nodded, unsurprised. “Then there is nothing to discuss.”

He watched Edge finish dressing. He usually wore a very nice suit, black as sin with a blood-red tie, although once when Rus had summoned him, he’d caught Edge in leather pants. That had been a hell of a night. 

_(It hadn’t started with sex. At first it had been curiosity fueled by loneliness, and despite Edge’s constant, bored provocations, Rus hadn’t called him for that. Instead, they’d slowly, warily conversed, discussed books, the various antiques in Rus’s shop. They’d talked until the wee hours, until the sun was nearly cresting the horizon, and Edge had been forced to flee before it._

_It had been six months in before those offers had been less by rote, an actual interest gleaming in Edge’s eye lights as he attempted yet another seduction. It had been another six months before Rus had given in.)_

“what if i gave you mine?”

Edge’s fingers stilled on his boot laces, briefly, then he finished tying them, the cords hissing as he tightened them. Slowly, Edge stood again, facing him. “Why would you do that?”

“so you could stay,” Rus said, softly.

“What would be the point? You know that I don’t love you,” Edge said pitilessly. There was no sorrow in his voice, only the flatness of truth. “the soulless can’t love.”

“maybe.” Rus wished he still had a cigarette. His soul was pounding, as though it knew what he was offering. “but you pretend better than anyone whose supposed to have ever loved me.”

_(He’d wondered before what kind of fate had set that knife into his hands, if he had been damned from the first cut. But what kind of demon had to be persuaded to steal a soul?)_

“And to what end? You’d be letting me love you right in time to mourn you,” Edge said scornfully, turning away.

“no—“

“You’re asking me to kill you.” His voice was little more than a harsh whisper, cracking and hoarse, and Rus exhaled, slowly. Edge might not love him, but he was not as emotionless as he liked to think.

“no!” Rus said hastily. He wanted to reach out, to grab Edge, but he couldn’t hold him, not that way. “i’m not. you could take half.”

“Half?” Startled, Edge turned to him again. 

“take half of my soul,” Rus insisted. A soft glow was starting to seep through the gaps in his ribs, his soul tentatively materializing. “leave half for me. maybe that would be enough soul for you to stay above ground with me, if you wanted.”

Edge didn’t move closer, only studied him through narrowed sockets. “Why should I?”

_(Their first time together, Edge straddling his hips, riding him. The unnatural heat of his body surrounding Rus and he’d moaned helplessly, losing himself in the pleasure of it. But it was after the shared orgasms that Rus remembered better, the look in Edge’s eye lights. They’d still been joined, magic fading between them and he’d looked down at Rus with something like fear. Like something that couldn’t be named)_

“curiosity?” Rus shrugged. “you feel something for me, i know you do. you’re soulless not heartless.”

Impassively, Edge only shook his head. “there’s not much difference.”

“then take half my soul. maybe you’ll figure it out.”

Before he could finish, Edge was pressing a hard hand to his chest, sharp fingertips digging in. It hurt, blinding, tearing pain and he cried out helplessly, biting back a scream as the pain crested, then faded to a dull, pulsing ache. Rus fell back against the bed, trembling, strangely exhausted and weak. Sweat was stinging in his sockets and he yanked up a fold of sheet to wipe his face. It was only as his vision cleared that he caught sight of Edge’s expression, his eye lights blown hazy and wide. 

Tears trembled at the rim of his sockets, brimming, then overflowing to trickle down. “Oh,” he said quietly.

“edge?” Weakly, Rus tried to sit up. “are you okay?”

The tears were streaming down, staining his skull with silvery wetness. “This is what you feel?”

“i don’t know,” Rus said helplessly. “i don’t know what you’re feeling.”

He flinched a little as Edge reached out, but his hands were gentle, cupping his jaw in his bony fingers and when Edge leaned in to kiss him, he tasted briny, tainted with the salt of his tears. 

Rus hoped he tasted like love. 

-finis-


	9. Day 9: Exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you can only hope for a safe place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for injuries and hurt/comfort

* * *

Red had insisted from the beginning that Edge learn how to use the machine. He wasn’t mechanically inclined in the slightest and had no intention of using it without his brother, but Red had not relented.

In the end, Edge’s intentions had proven false; he’d even gone visiting from time to time. More often recently, traveling to Underswap but even then, it was rarely without his brother. 

He was grateful for Red’s insistence now. Marrow smeared the keys as he typed in the one code he knew. He could have typed it blind.

His brother did not react to the sharp whoosh of the portal forming. He didn’t react when Edge staggered over to him, carefully picking him up from where he was slumped on the floor. It seemed impossible that he was so terribly light, the indomitable force that was his brother all held within this weak shell. 

Holding his brother’s limp form close, Edge staggered towards the silently glowing portal. He only paused to press the button that erased the machine coordinates, as he had been taught, before he stepped through.

Walking up the stairs from the Underswap brother’s basement almost proved too much. Edge gritted his teeth and did it anyway, refusing to give up when he was so close. The cheery light pouring out from their front window promised safety and Edge followed it almost blindly. 

His knuckles against the door were hardly louder than a tap. Edge was lifting a hand to try again when it swung open. Blue’s cheery greeting faded unspoken, his eye lights shrinking to pinpricks as he gasped aloud. 

“Help him,” Edge rasped out. He tried to hold out his brother, but he was losing his grip and Blue reached out to catch them both before he fell.

Distantly, he could hear Blue shouting for his brother. Safe, they were safe, and he let darkness claim him.

* * *

When he managed to swim his way back out of the gloom, Edge could only blink incomprehensibly at his surroundings. It took too long for everything to come back; the refused judgement, the battle…and now he was sprawled out on the Swap brother’s sofa, a faded quilt drawn over him. 

Red was nowhere in sight and he started pushing the quilt away in a near panic. 

“whoa, hang on, lover,” Stretch appeared on the other side of the living room from the kitchen, striding towards him. “sorry about the lack of room service, but blue wanted to heal you first thing. thought it would be better to let you sleep a little before we carted you around.”

“You should have left me on the floor,” Edge rasped out. He could see smears of marrow on the cushions, stark against the garish, flowery fabric. “It’s stained.”

Stretch gaped at him then barked out a raw laugh. “you drag your brother here, both of you one foot in the dust pan and you’re worried about the upholstery? fucking hell, edge, it’s fine! it’ll clean or it won’t, but you aren’t dust so i’ll take a few stains.”

Edge only shook his head dismissively. “Where’s Red?

“upstairs in blue’s room,” Stretch sat on the coffee table, shoving aside a half-full glass of water, then rethinking and holding it out to Edge. “he’s been awake on and off, he’s doing okay. we were more worried about you.” 

“I’m fine,” Edge mumbled, draining the glass. The water was cold and soothing. 

“yeah, real fine,” Stretch said impassively. “red told us what happened. i’m sorry.”

Sorry, yes, it was a sorry ordeal. Both of them disgraced and exiled from the guard for refusing a direct order from the King to kill a criminal for stealing. Only the so-called criminal had been a child, caught stealing food. Edge had no idea what Red had seen in that child when he refused to Judge him, but Edge had seen himself, grubby and starving and desperate.

Red had refused but Edge never left his back, he hadn’t hesitated once to fight at his brother’s side. Simply getting out of the castle had used up most of their magic and a desperate shortcut home had drained the rest. It was the grace of the angel that had brought them here to safety.

“They won’t follow us,” Edge said abruptly. “Even if they get through to the machine, I made sure they can’t find their way here.”

Stretch only nodded. “‘course you did, i never doubted it.” He smiled then, with sly insinuation, “welp, looks like you’ll be staying here a while, lover.” He gave Edge a saucy wink. “don’t worry, i can share my bed and i only bite when requested.”

Edge bristled. “We don’t need your charity—"

Scoffing, Stretch stole the empty glass back from Edge, setting it carelessly on the table. “what charity? if you’re staying here, i’d expect you guys to pull your own weight.”

“Like you do?” But it allowed Edge to relax a little. Pulling his own weight, he could do.

“i already live here,” Stretch said loftily. “nah, you two can work for your room and board, yeah? now get some rest.” He moved to sit next to the sofa on the floor. It put Edge within reach and his fingertips moved over Edge’s skull, scratching lightly at his coronal sutures.

“I thought I was working for my room and board.” The gentle touch was soothing, and Edge sighed, leaning into his touch. No matter what arguments or headbutting they’d had between them, these hands had never hurt him, never. These hands he could trust. 

“won’t get much done if you’re tired and weak,” Stretch pointed out. His hands were never still, “need some help falling asleep? i can give you a bedtime story or a blowjob but anything else you have to request in writing.”

“Fool,” Edge said sleepily.

“yeah, but you already knew that. now go to sleep.” Stretch waited until his breathing evened out, keeping up with the gentle stroking until he trusted that Edge was truly asleep. Then he climbed silently to his feet, taking a moment to draw the quilt up a little higher. 

He did not think of his brother calling for him, _shrieking_ for him, of a panicked teleport into their living room to find Edge and Red collapsed just barely inside the door next to Blue, the three of them streaked with crimson marrow from the Angel only knew what wounds. 

He wasn’t thinking of it, damn it. Not at all. 

Quietly as he could, Stretch made his way upstairs. He deliberately made a little noise as he opened his brother’s door, the better not to get his head taken off. But Red only glanced up at him from where he was tucked into Blue’s bed. 

Red didn’t bother with greetings. “he restin’?”

“yep,” Stretch started reaching for his cigarettes, grimaced and tucked them back away. Blue would kill him if he smoked in his room. “the good news is, it looks like you two are gonna stay awhile.”

Red nodded, closing his sockets and sinking back into the pillows, a barely perceptible tension melting away. “knew it would be better if it came from you. good work, honey bun.”

“eh, not that hard,” Stretch shrugged, “you only have to find a way to tell him what he wants to hear, in a way that’ll get him do what you want. my bro is the same way.”

“heh, yeah, that must be it,” Red opened one socket and gave him a skeptical look. 

“you need your sleep too, you shit,” Stretch said, fondly. He knelt to straighten the blankets. Most of Red’s wounds were healed and the rest were concealed beneath the blankets. 

“don’t have to tell me twice.” Red was snoring quickly and Stretch shook his head, walking to his own room. He needed a fucking nap after all this. 

But he left his door ajar, listening for the soft sounds of their unexpected guests. 

-finis-


	10. Day 10: Crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of love these 'finding their way in a relationship' stories. So have another one. ^_^

* * *

It shouldn't wake Edge to simply be alone in bed. It wasn't as though he was accustomed to sleeping with someone else. He still found himself awake at far too early an hour, blinking sleepily at the empty mattress next to him. 

He should roll over and go back to sleep. Tomorrow he would need to be up early to get back to Underfell in time for his morning patrols, and since he’d have to drag Red back with him, he’d need extra time. 

Red had made a lot of loud complaints about tagging along on his bony booty call, as he'd called it, and had promptly plunked down on the sofa to watch Napstatton with Blue. Neither of them had paid any attention when Stretch smirked at him, wagging a finger in a ‘come hither’ gesture and leading the way up the stairs. 

Probably rude as hell but there hadn’t been any point in pretending that he wasn’t here for exactly that. 

The sex had been satisfying, more than, and left him exhausted enough to give in to Stretch’s teasing request that he sleep over. Only, it seemed he was the only one sleeping and with a sigh, Edge rolled out of the rumpled blankets, drawing on his clothes and went searching. 

Blue must have gone to bed at some point but Red was still sprawled out on the sofa snoring. The snowy fuzz of static was coming from the television, leaving his face washed out in the flickering light. 

A glance in the kitchen showed it was empty as well, the counters gleaming clean. The house was too small for Stretch to be hiding anywhere. Edge slipped on his boots and stepped outside. 

There was a path worn through the snow to the back of the house and that was where he found Stretch leaning against the side of the house, smoking silently. 

He exhaled a thin stream of smoke. "sorry, lover, didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't," Edge said quietly. He moved to lean against the wall next to him. "Can't sleep?"

Stretch’s chuckle was soaked in weariness. "i'm too tired to sleep, does that make sense?" 

"Yes." Softly. Yes, Edge was more than familiar with those days. 

Stretch went on as if he hadn’t heard."i lay there in the dark and my head won't shut up. the harder i try to make it quiet the more things bubble up and i can’t—” He broke off with a shudder, hunching in on himself. "you don't have to stay here with me."

"I know.” But Stretch was starting to shiver and even if he didn’t want to sleep, he wouldn’t be able to stay outside much longer. "Tell you what, why don't we play a game?"

"a game?" Stretch hesitated with his cigarette halfway to his mouth, slanting Edge a disbelieving look. "really?"

"I am capable of playing a game,” Edge said dryly. “Checkers, for example.”

Stretch’s grin spread wide, a spark of actual glee in his eye lights. “okay, but i warn you, i’m fucking amazing at checkers. i got to a triple crown once when i was playing with muffet.”

“And I am an expert in strategy,” Edge told him, lifting his chin. “Perhaps I’ll give you more of a challenge.”

He tamped out his cigarette, dropping the butt into a rusty can sitting near the house. “you’re on.”

Edge followed him inside, his gaze dropping to watch the slight sway of his pelvis as he walked. Guilty, he jerked his eye lights back up and forced his thoughts back to checker strategy. Stretch had surprised him before with his brilliance and Edge wasn’t about to be fooled again. 

Besides, for some reason, he wanted to see that soft glee again, shining in Stretch’s eyes. 

-fin


	11. Day 11: Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge enjoys cooking. He doesn't normally do it for an audience, but then, it's not his kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never intended these to be a series, but I keep writing stories where they are dancing around falling in love with each other. I'm fine with this. ^_^

* * *

Many times the Swap brothers had encouraged Edge to simply come in when he traveled to Underswap, but they were fighting a losing battle. Edge would never be comfortable walking in to someone else’s home, whether or not he was invited.

As always, he knocked with a brisk rap of his knuckles, but it was unusual for Stretch to answer the door, rather than Blue’s starry, excited self.

Stretch whistled and gave him an appreciative up and down. Ridiculously, in Edge’s opinion, he was dressed the same as always. “hey, lover, come on in.” 

“Must you insist on the ridiculous moniker,” Edge sighed, stepping past him. 

“i can give you a new one?” Stretch grinned and closed the door. He ticked off on his fingers. “doll face? shnookums? roy? any of those tickle your funny bone?”

“I stand corrected, carry on as you were. Where is your brother?” They had a long-standing appointment on Wednesday’s for cooking lessons. More often than not Edge would stay for dinner and then the night. Half his time spent in the kitchen with one brother and the second half in the bedroom with the other. It was an agreeable arrangement on all counts.

“eh, blue asked me to tell you that his training with alphys is running over. he said you can start cutting up the veggies if you want.” Stretch gave him a wink. “or i can find something for you to do while we wait.”

“I’ll chop the vegetables,” Edge said dryly. Not that Blue couldn’t guess exactly what Edge got up to with his brother, but neither did Edge want to force him to endure a visual of it.

He hesitated as he walked towards the kitchen, stopping at Stretch’s side. Their relationship didn’t really carry a name or any promises and yet…Stretch was incredibly tempting with that flirtatious smile still lingering, and Edge gave in.

Leaning in to steal a chaste kiss that wouldn’t immediately lead to sex felt awkward, strange, particularly since Stretch went very still against him.

Before he could pull back, perhaps even apologize, Stretch suddenly melted into the careful touch with a sigh, offering back the same gentle touch.

He withdrew with some reluctance before it could deepen, looking up into Stretch’s face. The faint flush of orange at his cheekbones was startlingly satisfying, as was the dazed way he blinked.

“um, okay.” Stretch’s smile shifted to something uncertain. “i hope that was a promise for later.”

“Perhaps,” Edge said dismissively, and went on his way to the kitchen. He didn’t expect Stretch to follow him, cooking was definitely not an interest of his and Edge’s lessons with Blue even more so. He was more than happy to reap the benefits but usually fled the moment the recipes came out.

This time, he sat at the small table, his chin propped on his hand and drumming the fingers of his other hand lightly. 

At Edge’s raised brow bone, he only shrugged sheepishly, curling his hand into a loose fist. “sorry. just thought i’d keep you company until blue gets here.”

“So long as it’s company and not a distraction,” Edge said warningly.

Stretch smirked. “i’ll do my best.”

Despite the tease, he made no attempt at flirtation or seduction, only watched as Edge gathered the ingredients they’d need. Fresh vegetables were a luxury in Underfell and he struggled against a helpless spear of unease over using so many in one recipe. 

He’d seen the hydroponic garden that the town of Swap-Snowdin had set up, boggling when told it had been Stretch’s concept. It had been with real regret that he’d turned down an offer for a similar setup in Underfell. The electricity simply wasn’t reliable enough and it would be a waste of resources without guarantees.

It was enough to bite back guilt when he took whatever extras the town offered him and his brother. Sharing it with his Snowdin was impossible; all too soon suspicions and greed would demand the citizens find where his largess was coming from and he couldn’t endanger Underswap that way.

It was demoralizing and frustrating in equal measure, but Edge had yet to figure out a solution. In time, he hoped, something would change.

Before his lessons with Blue, Edge had very little experience with cutting vegetables and he was still much slower than his swapped counterpart. But with every lesson he was getting better, and faster, and he made his way through the pile efficiently.

He was nearly done when the knife slipped and nicked the bone of his index finger, deep enough to draw marrow.

“Shit,” Edge grunted, snatching up a towel to press against the wound. He wasn’t worried about the cut, but he didn’t want to waste any of the food by contaminating it.

“careful, edgelord, those things bite.” The chair scraped the floor as Stretch stood and walked over to him. 

Automatically, Edge resisted as Stretch tried to look at it and he gave Edge an exasperated look. 

“you want me to heal that or are you planning on bleeding all over dinner?” Stretch asked pointedly. “i’m all for a trip to a new flavortown but i’d rather you weren’t on the chopping block. I mean, for everything there is a season-ing and all, i guess. this seems a little extreme.”

Edge sighed irritably and held out his hand. Both Swap brothers were capable healers. It would be foolhardy to turn Stretch away, despite his discomfort at someone else using magic on him. For fuck’s sake, he’d had Stretch’s cock in his mouth, a little healing magic was hardly more intimate.

Except, it was, wasn’t it, the unexpected gentleness as he cradled Edge’s hand in his own. He’d never seen Stretch use any magic besides shortcutting, and the way his left eye light went dark while the right flared green-orange was reminiscent of his own brother. Warmth seeped into the bones of his hand, filling them with soft magic that wasn’t his own. He watched as the cut shrank, then disappeared, the bone left unmarked, with no sign there’d ever been an injury.

Before Edge could pull away, Stretch raised his hand to his mouth and kissed the offending digit. “there. all better.”

Disbelieving, Edge started, “Did you just—“

Stretch scrubbed a sheepish hand over his skull, backing up to his chair and nearly falling into it. “uh, sorry. i always used to do that for blue when he was little.”

Used to…with a jolt, Edge realized he’d never really considered what the Swap brothers’ childhood was like. He’d met them as adults, seen Blue as the competent caretaker of his older brother. 

Even when they’d started sharing a bed, he hadn’t questioned that mental assessment. Stretch went to his job and helped out around the house occasionally but there was no question that Blue was the head of the household. Just as Edge was in Underfell.

Why hadn’t it occurred to him that other parts of their lives had surely been mirrored? Stretch was the eldest, which meant at some point he would have been caring for his much younger brother. Like Red had, until Edge had come of age enough to help. 

He couldn’t imagine how difficult it must have been for a child to take care of another child, even in Underswap 

“You’re a good brother,” Edge said abruptly. 

Stretch only blinked, fumbling to pull out his lighter and he fidgeted with it, visibly flustered. “um. thanks?”

He didn’t get many compliments, Edge realized, not past Blue’s cheery affection for him…which made no sense. 

Then again, he’d walked through Underswap with Stretch, he’d seen the way he was treated; friendly, but with a touch of condescension. After all, he was only Blue’s troublesome brother, who smoked too much, drank at Muffet's too much…and yet he’d created an elaborate indoor garden for them, how could they not see that…?

Well. Likely the same way Edge didn’t see it.

Somehow, that thought hurt worse than any cut finger possibly could.

“Thank you for healing me. You’re very good at it.” Edge told him as he scraped up the cut vegetables into a bowl. That flare of color rose higher in Stretch’s cheekbones.

“nah, blue’s a lot better,” he said dismissively. “i can handle little stuff but he’s the one you want if you’re going to chop anything more than a finger.”

Hm. Proof of his theory. He remembered how Stretch had been shocked at his kiss of greeting at first, the way he’d melted into it after that initial hesitance. As if it had been something he wanted, but didn’t know how to ask for.

“Luckily, I didn’t and your healing did exactly what I needed,” Edge said briskly. “So, thank you.”

“um. you’re welcome?” Stretch said hesitantly. But a little smile curved his mouth and he set his lighter down, propping his chin on both hands to watch Edge work.

So he could accept a compliment, after all. Perhaps he’d be even better at if he grew more accustomed to them. 

This would take a careful plan; Stretch was a great deal more clever than most gave him credit for, but Edge believed he was up for the challenge.

If Stretch was making a point of healing his wounds, it would only be fair if Edge did the same.

-finis-


	12. Day 12: Finish Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge isn't one for playing games very often, but there are some worth his time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! All twelve days, although I sort of chose my own prompt for the last day. ^_^

* * *

“What do the buttons do again?” Edge asked, heavy resignation in his voice. 

Stretch leaned over and tapped each one with a finger as he recited, “this one to speed up, this one to steer, hold this to drift and this one to use an item. got it?”

“I don’t think—"

“awesome! go!”

Edge swore as the colorful vehicles on the television screen sped away from the start line, leaving his little kart sitting woefully alone. He pressed frantically at the buttons until one made it lurch forward. Immediately, it skidded off the rainbow-colored road and into darkness, only for some sort of creature sitting on a cloud to rescue him, fishing him from space and returning his kart to the track. 

Meanwhile, Stretch was sitting in first place, casually rounding each bend and twist in the track. 

“You’re an asshole,” Edge grumbled. Stretch only laughed. Cautiously, he found the accelerating button again, guiding his character along the track. He didn’t win the first round, limping to the finish line in last place. The second round he did a little better and on the third, he finally figured out what the items were for. 

Red shells were the creation of a sadist, Edge was sure. He liked them immensely, especially when Stretch squawked indignantly as one hit him, his kart spinning off the track as Edge’s smugly sped on.

“oh, you fucker!” Stretch yelped. He was on his knees, leaning forward, his fingers moving urgently on the controller as he worked to catch up. But Edge was finally in the lead and his dodge when Stretch tried to return the favor might have been clumsy, but it was effective, the shell spinning harmlessly past him. 

He was going to win this one, he was sure of it…until a sharp nudge at his elbow made him jerk, sending his kart careening into space. Disbelieving, he looked at Stretch who was only watching the television innocently. The smile quivering on his mouth told another story. 

Well, if that was how the game was going to be played…Edge shifted until he could free a foot, extending a long leg out to give Stretch a rough shove. It was enough to make him curse, his kart spinning out. His head whipped around, his eye lights sparking bright and sockets narrowed, and Edge only glared back.

The words stayed unspoken, but the meaning was clear; bring it.

By the end, they were all but crawling on top of each other, smacking controllers, and straining to get the upper hand. Stretch’s indignation had long since faded into wheezing laughter as Edge sat right on him, finally navigating his kart over the finish line while Stretch’s was currently going the wrong way, meandering over grassy knolls and fences. 

“you cheater,” Stretch accused, panting as he sprawled on the floor. There was no heat in it, only bright amusement. 

Edge only looked down at him loftily, “You started it.”

“you didn’t win,” Stretch pointed out. 

“I didn’t want to win, I wanted to beat you. Considering that you’re closer to finding Dorothy and her menagerie on their way down the yellow brick road than you are the finish line, I think I succeeded.”

“You’re a shit,” Stretch said, with such fondness that Edge’s soul cramped, tight with a sort of longing. Stretch was no longer looking at him, his eye lights on the screen as he attempted to guide his kart to the end of the race. 

The flush of color in his cheek bones was a soft temptation, his grin filled Edge with warmth, and it made a sudden realization click in his mind with sharp clarity. Without thinking, Edge blurted it out, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Stretch’s kart spun off the track and came to a standstill against a fence. The controller fell from Stretch’s hand as he blinked up at Edge. “you…what?”

Well. Now it was out there, spoken and hanging between them with no way for Edge to take it back. In a way, it was a relief, painful as it was to see Stretch’s shock. Edge swallowed hard against the tightness in his throat and kept an iron grip on his emotions. “You don’t have to say anything. I simply wanted you to know.”

Still, a trickle of grief wound its way through his soul as Stretch pushed him off and scrambled to his feet, sputtering, “you…you dick! how can you…are you serious right now?”

That was it, then. His confession had ruined what they had between them. That grief sharpened into a blade, cutting at his soul. “I should go.”

Before he could so much as climb to his feet, Stretch had a grip on his shoulders, keeping him down. “woah, woah, you are going fucking nowhere! you can’t just drop this in me and run off! i don’t have to say anything? are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Are you going to keep insulting me?” Edge asked irritably. He understood what he had said, thank you, he didn’t need Stretch driving his stupidity home with such force. 

“um, yeah, a few more times at least! okay,” Stretch took a deep breath and let it out, then said, firmly, “i’ve been in love with you for months, you asshole.”

Oh.

“Oh,” Edge said aloud, blankly, and Stretch made a rude noise, plunking down to sit cross-legged in front of him. His hands were warm as he grabbed Edge’s, holding them together in his lap. 

“i mean, what do you think we’ve been doing all this time? we hang out together, we go on dates, you cook for me for fuck’s sake! we sleep together most nights!”

It was true, all of it. Perhaps he deserved Stretch’s accusations of stupidity, what sort of fool couldn’t see a relationship building right in front of him?

"I wasn't...I didn't…” Edge tried, but how could he explain that somehow, he’d missed all of that, how it had slipped his notice that looking at Stretch filled him with warmth, that he’d been stealing kisses for no reason other than he wanted one for some time. That he hadn’t known the tenderness that rose in his soul whenever he heard Stretch laugh was a symptom of love. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t.

Stretch blew out a sharp, irritated breath. "okay, c'mere."

He wound his arms around Edge, pulling him in with one arm around his shoulders, his other hand gently cupping his skull. His breath was soft and sweet as he nuzzled a kiss against Edge’s cheek bone and only then did he realize he was shaking, their bones rattling as they knocked together. He leaned into Stretch’s touch, resting his forehead against his collarbone as Stretch gently pet him, murmuring softly, “it’s okay, it’s fine, i love you, too, you know? i love you, too.”

“I love you,” Edge whispered back, no cushion of ‘I think’, no maybes. He did love Stretch, this foolish, kind, brilliant, lovable idiot. He loved him. 

The tinkle of music from the game was still playing behind them, a bizarre score to such a confession, but somehow entirely appropriate for their relationship. Edge drew back enough to set a finger beneath Stretch’s chin, leaning in to press their mouths together.

Sharing words was good and well, but Edge could think of a few better ways to show his love. 

-finis-


End file.
